


Love and the Clockwork Heart

by worrisomeme



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, Engineer Bucky Barnes, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Homeless Steve Rogers, M/M, No Daddy Kink, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sugar Daddy, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-05-27 21:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15033797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worrisomeme/pseuds/worrisomeme
Summary: A tense silence stretches out, the only sound that of mugs clinking as Steve stands on tip-toes to get three down from the cabinet. And maybe Bucky won’t look at him different, he tries to tell himself. Maybe nothing will change.“Why don’t you just come move in with me?” Bucky finally breaks the silence. Tony lets out a loud snort and Steve sighs, his shoulders tensing as he watches the last drops fill the coffee pot.





	1. Prologue: The ficlet that started it all

**Author's Note:**

> So this started out as a little snippet that came to me one morning and just really took on a life of its own lol Hope you guys enjoy it!!!<3 <3 <3

“So what?” Steve says around a mouthful of cigarette smoke. He shrugs and makes a dismissive gesture as his free hand tugs his beanie from where it had been sliding up the back of his head.

“What do you mean ‘so what’?” Tony demands, slapping a hand on the table. Natasha next to him rolls her eyes and exchanges a look with Clint across from her. “I figured out the fuel storage issue! That’s a major step!”

“You heard me,” Steve says, blowing smoke in his direction. “If you _can’t find a way_ to circumvent all that heat those engines will create then you might as well have not even _figured out_ the fuel storage issue in the _first place_.” He puts out his cigarette and takes a sip of his pop, shrugging again. “I mean, unless you don’t care if you turn your arms and legs into pork rinds. You gotta _prioritize, Anthony_ ,” he says, pointing accusingly at his friend with a French fry before popping it into his mouth.

Tony stares at him, brow-furrowed and open-mouthed, for a long moment, then he sputters for another couple of minutes, and after all that the best comeback he can come up with is, “What do _you_ know, _artist_?”

Steve lets out a little snort and just grins, victorious, before he shrugs and pops another fry into his mouth.

“You know, I can help you with that,” a stranger says as he slides in next to Steve and steals a fry from his plate. He’s got silky brown hair down to his waist that’s pulled into a messy half-pony and a pair of old-school welding goggles atop his head.

Who the fuck _is_ this guy?

Steve looks at Natasha and then at Sam on Tony’s other side, open-mouthed and wide-eyed in indignance of his stolen french fry. He snaps his mouth closed and looks over to the man next to him, torn between ‘excuse me who do you think you are just plopping down here and taking my food?’ and ‘oh my god please school my friend on his pet project for the love of god’. Both are overshadowed by ‘holy shit as an artist I didn’t know such beauty could exist in this world please marry me’.

In the end, what comes out is the most ineloquent sound he’s probably ever made in his life. Natasha practically spits out the sip she’d just taken of her drink and Sam just raises his eyebrows at him, a thoroughly amused grin on his face.

“Hello,” the brunet says to him, drawing more laughter from the redhead across the table.

“Who the fuck are you?” Tony cuts in, drawing all eyes back to himself.

“James Barnes,” the brunet says, snatching another fry. “Biomedical engineering. With a specialty in mechatronics, of course.” Then he holds up his left hand and wiggles mechanical fingers at him, a shit-eating grin on his face. “You can call me Bucky.”


	2. Prologue: The initiation of Bucky Barnes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA Steve is really good at hiding things but nothing lasts forever

Bucky quickly becomes a fixture in their lives, partially because he’s helping Tony with his crazy ass flying suit and partially because Steve’s practically in love with him. Though, lets be real, just about everyone in their friend group falls a little bit in love with Bucky when they meet him.

Months of movie nights and dinner parties and crazy drunk parties and clubbing and lazy late nights go by, and Steve’s been getting _real_ good at hiding his biggest secret. Bucky doesn’t even suspect that he’s homeless, couch crashing for a week here or a few nights there with whichever friend he hasn’t bothered in a while. And hey, he’s gotta give them credit where credit is due too, they’re unintentionally doing a great job of hiding it themselves, too used to Steve being a vagabond fixture in their lives.

If he knows Bucky will be coming to a place he’s staying that day or that week, he’ll pack up his shit and shove it in a closet. Hell, when they’re drinking he’s usually not even the only one crashing (though he does always end up the most wasted) so it _really_ doesn’t generate questions then.

And it’s not to say that they don’t get close, or that their friendship is superficial. Aside from the usual friendship things like food and movie and TV show preferences, Steve tells Bucky all about his dad dying overseas before he was born, his mom dying of cancer a year and a half ago. He complains about the struggles of finding regular work in the art industry, or even graphic design, his hopes and dreams for his eventual career and his fears that he’s already getting too old for it to happen. Bucky teases him about that one, because the blond is the youngest one in their social circle by at least two years.

But see, the thing is, Bucky’s stories are about a large, healthy family with things like luck and money to spare. His stories are how he took time off after high school to travel Europe and how he’s graduating with his PhD debt free thanks to his parents with a great job lined up already thanks to _their_ friends (and Bucky’s own merits, of course, but still), about the ridiculous amounts of money they give him for his birthday and Christmas, the trust fund he’d walked into at eighteen and how a damn good chunk of it is still just sitting in his savings account. The only really bad story Bucky has to tell is the car accident that took his left arm years and years and years ago. But his parents had the money to solve that problem too, and he went to school and got the knowledge to build that mind-blowing robot arm he has now.

So maybe Steve, young and enamored, is embarrassed to tell Bucky how he got evicted from his mom’s apartment six months after she died, or about how he lives out of their friend’s living rooms, out of a single small duffle bag and a backpack. Maybe he’s not so quick to tell Bucky how his freelance work _just_ covers his phone bill and art supplies and whatever food he can buy, whatever bills he can chip in on to pay them back. And maybe he doesn’t want to worry him, so he doesn’t take his shirt off in front of the older man, so that he doesn’t have to tell him about the pacemaker he hasn’t had checked in two or three years, or the fact that he kind of lost track just how long it’s been, or those silly depression and anxiety meds he should probably definitely still be on, that silly inhaler he ‘doesn’t really need anymore anyway’.

And nothing’s ever _actually_ going to happen between them, right? They’re just great friends. And even good friends keep some secrets from each other… Right? So Bucky is properly integrated into their friend group and things go on as normal.


	3. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the illusion is finally shattered.

“Tony, go the fuck to bed,” Steve grouses, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he leans against the door frame of the room his friend has converted to a lab (against his landlord’s wishes).

“In a bit,” Tony insists with a dismissive wave of his hand, not even looking up from whatever algorithm or blueprint he’s working on now.

Steve rolls his eyes and huffs out a sigh. “Okay, well, it’s one a-m and _I’m_ tired, so _I’m_ going to bed. Don’t come whining to me in the morning when _you’re_ up way too late and half-dead through your eight a-m class. If you go at all.”

“Yeah, yeah, no whining, I get it,” Tony insists with more hand-waving. “Just make sure there’s coffee for me when I get up pretty please.”

“I’ll have it in a travel mug ready to go,” Steve assures his friend with a quiet chuckle and a shake of his head. “ _Goodnight Tony_.”

“Sweet dreams and all that,” comes the distracted reply.

Steve rolls his eyes again fondly but pushes himself from the wall and makes his way to the couch in the living room. His art supplies and half of his duffle bag are strewn around the living room still, but he’ll have time to clean it up while Tony’s in class, so he ignores it and flops down onto the couch.  He yawns as he checks his phone one last time, then he sets his alarm and is asleep within minutes.

But too few hours later it’s not his alarm that wakes him up, and it’s definitely not the barely there springtime sun streaming through the windows. It’s someone tripping over his duffle bag in their haste to get to the kitchen and busting their ass on the hardwood floor. And that someone is definitely _not_ Tony, he knows that instantly.

“Fuck,” the person grumbles, and suddenly Steve’s wide awake.

 _Fuck!_ he thinks frantically, bolting upright. _That_ was Bucky. What the _fuck_ is Bucky doing here at this hour?

“What the fuck?” Bucky questions aloud as he pushes himself up from the floor, taking in his surroundings as he goes. “ _Steve_?” There’s concern in his voice and even in the barely-there light of the streetlights streaming in through the windows the blond can see the pieces clicking into place in that genius brain of his, can see the second that lightbulb flicks on.

Fuck.

Steve opens his mouth to… well, he doesn’t know what. To make excuses or try to explain it all away, to lie. But he hasn’t been good with words around Bucky, the beautiful fucking angel that he is, since the day they met and he takes too long and instead the brunet has the chance to ask:

“Why didn’t you _tell me_?” His brow is furrowed and the hurt is quickly sinking into that sweet voice, those stunning slate blue eyes.

“What were you doing here anyway?” A feeble attempt at derailing the conversation.

When a look from the other man makes it clear that isn’t going to happen Steve sighs and purses his lips and looks up to the ceiling for a moment before he says weakly, “Because I… I don’t need your pity, I guess. Or your charity, or whatever it is that was- that _is_ going to come from you finding out.” He sighs again and finally meets Bucky’s gaze as he admits, “I didn’t want you looking at me differently.”

“But you’re okay taking _Tony’s_ charity or whatever this is?” Bucky presses him.

“It’s not charity,” he replies quickly. “I spend a couple nights here, then a couple with Nat and Clint, then Sam, and then whoever after that, ya know? I help out around the house and cook and toss them money for food and bills when I can. Sometimes I’ll spend a night or two in a shelter,” he admits for the first time out loud, blushing, trying to gain some honesty points back with the older man, “if I haven’t gotten work in a while, just to ease the burden on them. But they don’t know that one so keep it to yourself please.”

“Jesus Stevie! So you’re so worried about what I think but you’re not worried about it with Clint or Nat or Sam or- or _Tony_ of all people?” Bucky asks, incredulous, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Everyone else has known me since we were _kids_ ,” Steve says with a shrug. “They weren’t going to look at me different because that image of me is burned into their brains forever, they were with me _through_ it.”

“But I’m an outsider, is that it?” Bucky spreads his arms for emphasis, then brings his right hand to his temple, rubbing it gently, his left dropping to his side.

The blond sighs and runs a hand through his hair, fixing his gaze at the ceiling again like god or anyone would be up there to help him. Like they would if they were.

“He was trying to impress you,” Tony butts in, half-asleep and picking his way across the living room and into the kitchen, Steve assumes to fulfill Bucky’s original mission of making coffee. “Being a starving artist is cool and edgy, being a homeless one is pathetic. Especially to people with _money_ like you and me. _Especially_ the closer said artist gets to thirty.”

“Hey!” Steve shouts, tossing a pillow in his friend’s direction.

“Those are _your_ words Steve-o,” Tony deflects, “not mine. You know _I_ support you or you wouldn’t be sleeping on my couch.”

And Steve can’t argue with that, so he sighs and drops his head into his hands. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he grumbles, then he pushes himself up from the couch and meanders into the kitchen, still not able to look at Bucky as he passes him. He pushes Tony away from where he’s making a real valiant effort at the coffee maker but is just way too tired to be accomplishing anything and toward the kitchen table. “Sit,” he says firmly, “I’ve got it. Ya fuckin’ traitor.”

“You’re a saint” Tony mumbles as he flops into a chair.

“And _you’re_ gonna be missing your eight a-m class, just like I fuckin’ said.” Steve turns, coffee filter in one hand and a scoop of grounds in the other, and gives him a pointed look. It’s about the same look Bucky is now giving Steve from the entrance to the kitchen that Steve is choosing to ignore.

“I love it when you stay with me Stevie,” Tony continues rambling, and he’s definitely slurring a little.

“You sound drunk,” Steve says, setting back to the task at hand. “How many nights has it been now since you slept?”

“That’s not important,” Tony flops a hand in his direction in an attempt to be dismissive. Steve just rolls his eyes.

A tense silence stretches out, the only sound that of mugs clinking as Steve stands on tip-toes to get three down from the cabinet. And maybe Bucky won’t look at him different, he tries to tell himself. Maybe nothing will change.

“Why don’t you just come move in with me?” Bucky finally breaks the silence. Tony lets out a loud snort and Steve sighs, his shoulders tensing as he watches the last drops fill the coffee pot.

“He won’t do it,” Tony says matter-of-factly.

“And why the hell not?” Bucky asks, stepping forward into the kitchen finally.

“Because he’s stubborn and proud and an asshole.”

“I need a cigarette,” Steve grumbles to himself.

“You smoked your last one last night,” Tony reminds him, somewhere between gleeful and hysterical with his lack of sleep, and Steve curses under his breath. “And anyway, you shouldn’t even _be_ smoking with-“

“He’s right,” Steve cuts him off, glaring over his shoulder at Tony then glancing to Bucky. “I won’t do it.”

“And why the hell not?” Bucky repeats, arms crossing over his chest, expression expectant. He ignores Tony’s interrupted comment for now.

Steve sighs again and drops his chin to his chest for just a moment, then he starts fixing himself and Tony a cup of coffee purely for the sake of keeping his hands busy. “Because I don’t make enough money to regularly put out half a month’s expenses, and I don’t want anyone to have to be burdened by me full time,” he explains. “It’s bad enough I inconvenience anyone for a couple days or a week or whatever. And, _shit_ Buck, I’ve been to your place. I probably couldn’t manage a _third_ of _those_ living expenses. Not right now at the very least.” Bucky opens his mouth to argue but Steve turns, two mugs in hand, and cuts him off, “So, no, thanks but no thanks, really, but I won’t do it.”

Bucky’s jaw is tight like he wants to say something but he’s stopping himself. For a long moment he just stands in the center of the kitchen silently, then he finally starts fixing his own mug of coffee.

“I should be putting your ass to bed, ya know, not giving you caffeine,” Steve grumbles to Tony as he sets the mug down in front of him and takes the seat across from him.

“I’ll buy you a pack of Marlboro’s later,” Tony quips back, tipping his mug to the blond in salute before taking a long sip.

“Can’t argue with that,” he grumbles, to himself this time.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Bucky says firmly as he takes the last seat at the small round table, then his tone softens, “but I’ll drop it for now. I’m too tired to argue.”

“Good call James, good call,” Steve says and tips his mug in his direction in cheers.


	4. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky is way too sneaky for his own good and Steve regrets everything.

Steve is working on a major payday – an ad for some local brewery opening a third store – at Tony’s coffee table when Bucky steps out of the lab, his phone ringing in his hand.

“Sorry,” he stage-whispers to Steve, then answers, “Hey ma. What’s up?”

Steve glances over his shoulder and snickers a little, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He tries not to eavesdrop, he really does. But Bucky _did_ come out into the silent room that he happens to be occupying to take the call, so he really isn’t to blame if he overhears something, right? And to his credit, he manages to filter most of it out, but his heart drops just a little when he hears:

“Well, I mean, I’d love you guys to, but, ya see, my boyfriend is moving in literally the day before that, so it’s not really gonna be a good time.”

Since when is Bucky seeing someone? And who is it? Is it one of their friends? Steve knows it really isn’t his business if Bucky (and possibly that person) had actively chosen not to tell him, somewhere, deep in his heart he knows that. But there’s a part of him that’s about four years old that says,  _So much for him bitching about_ you _keeping secrets_. He knows his feelings for Bucky aren’t really anything serious, just a cute little infatuation with this gorgeous, intelligent, super successful friend of his. But it’s only natural to feel a little disappointed, right?

“Fine, fine, okay ma, chill out,” Bucky says impatiently and sighs, snapping Steve back out of his own head. “Look, I’ll ask him about it and get back to you, okay? It’s both of our home now and I can’t just invite people over for a whole week without okaying it with him first.”

Steve’s turned by now and is back up on the couch openly staring, eyebrows raised in intrigue, as Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose and physically resists another heavy sigh.

“Okay ma,” Bucky goes on, letting go of his nose and pushing his bangs back out of his face. “Yeah, I love you too. I’ll call you later and let you know what he says. Okay, yeah, bye.”

And as soon as he hangs up, the four year old in Steve’s head takes over and says, “ _Hmmm_. Didn’t know you were seeing someone. Lucky guy.”

Bucky shoots him a  _look_ as he stuffs his phone in his pocket. “I’m not seeing anyone,” he says, then he sighs again and makes another unsuccessful attempt at shoving his bangs back.

Steve gasps melodramatically and clutches a hand to his chest. “Are you _lying_ to your _mother_ James Buchanan Barnes?” he teases his friend.

Bucky laughs and shoves Steve’s shoulder as he flops down next to him on the couch. “Yes I am, as a matter of fact,” he says. “She just  _wouldn’t shut up_ ,” he grouses, leaning back against the couch. “Bucky, you’re about to be thirty-one, you really should start trying to settle down. I just want you to be  _happy_ honey. I want you to have a full life,” he mimics his mother’s voice. Steve assumes it’s not an accurate representation. “Yadda yadda yadda. I know she means well, but I just had to shut her up for a little while.”

“Well, hey, now you’ve got a good excuse for not seeing your family, right?” Steve snickers.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Bucky says with a soft sigh. “It’s just that now they can’t come visit without- “ And then Steve sees the lightbulb flick on in Bucky’s head and both of their eyes go wide.

“ _Ooooh no_ , that look is  _never_  good,” Steve says, inching away. “ _What?”_

“Well, they can’t visit now without blowing my lie wide open, unless I got a boyfriend,” Bucky says, a predatory grin on his face as he closes the gap for every inch Steve puts between them. He’s definitely scheming. “Or, ya know, at least someone willing to pretend.”

“ _Ooooh no!_ ” Steve says again as his back hits the arm of the couch.

“Come on,” Bucky half-begs, reaching his metal hand up and stroking Steve’s cheek, down the side of his neck, resting on his chest. Steve blushes all the way down to his toes and his heart starts to race at the closeness and the contact as Bucky goes on, “It’s mutually beneficial. You can stay with me for a week- Actually, you should probably stay the week before they come too. Not much of a boyfriend if you don’t even know your way around my house, right? Just gotta suffer a little hand-holding and cuddling, maybe a couple quick little kisses when my family’s around. They’re gonna take us out for meals and all kinds of nice shit. Come on, help a pal out Stevie.”

Steve’s shaking his head frantically the whole time Bucky’s rambling and when the brunet finally stops he just repeats, “No no no no no no no.”

“Why not?” Bucky asks, pouting and flashing puppy dog eyes. This is  _so_ a side of him Steve’s never seen before.

There are exactly two reasons why Steve knows he should  _not_ do this. The first is that Steve has actual feelings for Bucky. He’s not sure how serious they are, but they’re there, and he really doesn’t need to end up falling in love with the older man who’s just affectionate and flirty with his friends and pretending for his family. No way. The second is he  _really_ doesn’t need himself getting used to living so luxuriously. It wasn’t like Bucky hadn’t offered for him to just straight up move in with him a million times in the week and a half since he found out about Steve’s predicament, but still. He can _not_ take him up on it, and he knows he’ll be tempted to if he stays with him that long (especially if his feelings end up getting involved). Bucky probably knows it too, that’s probably where that wicked glint in his eye is coming from.

“I’m not helping you lie to your ma,” Steve bullshits. He won’t admit the real reasons he’s being so adamant, at least not out loud, at least not to Bucky.

“Bullshit,” Bucky calls him on it and Steve flushes again. “And if you’re not going to give me a real reason why you won’t do it, then you’re doing it. Don’t make me call Natasha.”

Steve’s eyes go wide again and he whacks his fist against the side of the couch. He knows if he tells Bucky he’ll talk him out of it, make him face the fact that those are kind of shitty reasons and he’s really just grasping at straws. And if he doesn’t tell Bucky, and Bucky calls Nat, it’s going to end about the same. What’s more, she’ll probably get all his friends to blacklist him. She knows he won’t stick himself on the street or even in a shelter for _that_ long when there’s a friend with a better offer on the table. He’s stubborn but he’s not a complete idiot. She’d do it, too, if it was for his own good.

Fuck.

He really isn’t seeing a universe where this isn’t happening. Bucky knows it too if the smile growing even wider on his face is any indication. Steve sighs heavily and before he can even bring himself to say anything Bucky tugs him into a hug.

“You’re the best Stevie!” the brunet says, kissing his cheek.

“You really didn’t give me much choice in the matter,” Steve grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.

“You won’t regret it!” Bucky corrects himself, bounding up from the couch.

“I already do!” Steve shouts back, but Bucky’s already back in the lab.


	5. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve moves in

Steve feels his face flushing already as he makes his way through Bucky’s apartment two weeks later. His situation has never really made him feel embarrassed before and he doesn’t like it. And it’s not even like he hasn’t been to Bucky’s before. He hasn’t been there many times, sure, but enough that the sticker shock has worn off. But it’s different now with his raggedy little duffle bag and his raggedy little backpack with every raggedy ass thing he owns stuffed inside of them. He’s just happy he’d washed his clothes before he left Tony’s as he dumps them out on Bucky’s king-sized bed to put away.

“Is this really necessary?” he asks, then calls out a little, “Hey!” when he sees Bucky carefully placing the few pictures and pieces of his mom’s jewelry that fell out with his clothes on his dresser.

“My boyfriend just moved in, remember?” Bucky asks, treating the items even more gently if that’s possible. “That means his important stuff is going to be set out with mine.”

Steve knows he’s right, but he still narrows his eyes a little. “Maybe your boyfriend is really slow with unpacking,” he mutters and picks through his clothes, but doesn’t actually put anything away.

“Then why aren’t there boxes?” Bucky points out, and Steve sighs, knowing he’s right. “I can do that if you want,” he offers, arms crossing over his chest as he leans against his dresser.

“I just… feel like I’m… intruding or something,” Steve mumbles, ignoring the offer and perching on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t like the thought of his raggedy clothes mixing with Bucky’s, like they’ll put holes in them just by proximity or something stupid like that. “I’m sure you’ve got a particular way you like things and I don’t wanna fuck that up.”

“Then let me help you and do it, ya stubborn ass punk,” Bucky offers again, smiling like a warm summer breeze.

Steve purses his lips and huffs, then gets off the bed and runs a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he says, “but I’m gonna go start dinner then.”

“You’ve got a deal,” the older man replies with a chuckle, pushing himself away from the dresser. As he passes the blond he pulls him into a brief hug. “Thank you for letting me help you,” he says quietly into his ear, sending shivers down his spine, “and for helping  _me_  with this.”

Steve sighs softly but he can’t help but lean into the hug. “Thank you for helping,” he says just as quietly. “It’s the least I could do.”

 

And hour later Bucky’s sitting at the dinner table as Steve sets a plate down in front of him. “So, just a head’s up, we’ve been dating for six months,” the brunet says, and Steve sets his own plate down a little more forcefully than he’d meant to in his shock.

“We’ve barely _known each other_ for six months,” he balks.

“We started dating right off the bat,” Bucky says, grinning like he’s got the whole story worked out already.

“So you mean to tell me,” Steve starts, slipping into the seat across from his friend, “that, what, a week? We’ll go with a week. A week after we met, that’s when you told your mom we were dating? Please tell me you just _told her_ we’ve been dating six months and not that you’ve been actually _lying to her_ for six months.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny how long I’ve been lying to my mom about seeing someone.”

“What?!” Steve practically shouts, more out of surprise than any anger. “If you were going to make me your fake boyfriend you should have at least told me about it before the whole meet your parents thing!”

“Well, it’s not that I told them I was dating _you_ , specifically,” Bucky explains after a mouthful of food. Steve’s eyebrows shoot up and he goes on, “So, look, okay, listen, before I met you guys I didn’t have a lot of friends in the area, so I didn’t go out much,” he explains, gesturing with his fork. “Afterward, I was out all the time. She jumped to the conclusion that I was seeing someone finally and she was just _so damn happy_ about it I didn’t correct her.”

“And you never gave her _any_ details?” Steve presses, unconvinced, then stuffs a bite into his own mouth.

“Not really,” Bucky says with a shrug and a snicker. “I played it coy, so when I kept insisting I was going out with my friends, she figured I was just trying to throw her off the scent or something. Eventually she got so pushy about it I just said I didn’t want to tell her too much until it got serious, ya know? Like until I knew it was ‘for real’.”

“You’re a horrible person,” the blond says, but he’s laughing.

“Oh come on,” Bucky replies and kicks him lightly under the table, “you tryin’a tell me you never once lied to your mom to make her stop worrying and-or nagging you?”

Steve thinks about all the fights he used to get into as a kid, in high school and he flushes a little. Okay, so maybe he’s got a point.

“See?” Bucky says, laughing and kicking him lightly again. “So we’ve been dating six months, and I’m _really_ affectionate with my guys, so you better prepare yourself for that.”

“You’re affectionate with everyone,” Steve points out, pointing his fork at the older man as if it would make his point. “So how did we meet? I’m sure they’re gonna ask now that we’re finally ‘serious’.”

Bucky snatches Steve’s free hand with his own and laces their fingers. “Just wait,” he says with a soft chuckle. Steve feels his cheeks turn red again and he suddenly finds himself _very_ interested in the food on his plate. “Better start getting used to it now.” His thumb moves slowly over the other man’s knuckles as he takes a bite and ponders the blond’s question.

“It’ll be easier if we at least kind of base it off the truth,” Steve adds, and Bucky nods at that.

“That’s true,” he says. “So I’ll just say I first noticed you because you’re so damn cute, but then when I heard you talking my language,” he winks and rolls his left shoulder, making the mechanics whirr quietly, “I just _knew_ I had to ask you out. And then when your friend – Tony – was so baffled and called you out and I found out you were an _artist_? Who knew his way around robotics? I was _gone_.”

Steve’s face is absolutely burning and he’s sure it’s ten degrees hotter in the room as he tries to fight the goofy smile threatening to break out across his face. He only kind of succeeds.

“And I’ll say I was in love from the moment you stole my french fries,” Steve teases, drawing a surprised laugh from the brunet.

“Perfect,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of Steve’s hand.


	6. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the spoiling begin!

Bucky comes home from work a couple days later with his arms full of bags. Steve hadn’t even noticed he was late, so engrossed in fleshing out a concept for a series idea he plans to pitch to a gallery.

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, eyebrows raised and curious. “What’s all that Buck? We havin’ a party?”

And Bucky actually flushes a little as he kicks the door closed behind him and kicks off his shoes. “No, nothing like that,” he chuckles quietly and starts making his way to the bedroom. “Just some stuff I got for you, actually,” he calls over his shoulder.

“What?” Steve asks, brow furrowing as he stands and follows Bucky into the bedroom. “For me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says and shrugs, cheeks still pink as he starts pulling clothes from the bags and laying them out. “You don’t have a lot of clothes, ya know. So I got you some.”

Steve’s shoulders tense instantly and he feels the anger bubbling up like lava, hot and fast. “See? This is exactly what I was talking about Buck,” he says, gesturing toward the clothes. “I knew this was a bad idea,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head.

“What?” Bucky asks, his smile falling. “Are you seriously mad right now?”

“Yes!” Steve shouts, throwing his arms up. “This is exactly what I meant when I said I didn’t want you treating me different! I’m not some charity case you get to buy shit for to make yourself feel better!”

“It’s not like that Stevie,” Bucky insists, arms crossing over his chest. “You’re my friend and you’re doing me this favor and I wanted to spoil you a little to say thanks. That’s all.”

“So it’s not because you’re embarrassed for your family to see me in my grubby starving artist clothes?” Steve asks, mimicking the older man’s posture, eyebrow raised skeptically. “There’s absolutely no ‘oh _poor Stevie_ going without’? _Bullshit_.”

“Why do you have such a hard time believing that people just want to do nice things for you because they _like_ you?” Bucky asks. “You really need to check your inferiority complex Steve, because, news flash, you’re smart and talented and awesome and no one looks down on you for chasing your dreams. At least not any of us. You needed more clothes, you _needed_ them, end of story. And you’re my friend and if I can do something nice for someone I care about, _why shouldn’t I_?”

“I don’t _need_ your damn charity!” Steve snaps and turns on his heel to storm out of the room.

“Of course you don’t _need_ our fuckin’ help,” Bucky calls after him, frustrated, stopping him in his tracks in the doorway. “We know you don’t _need_ our help. But we _love_ you and we _want_ to do nice things to make your life easier when it’s sucking so fucking hard right now. We have the means and we _want_ to spoil you a little here and there, we want to look out for you and take care of you like you do for us. So just cut the bullshit and take it.”

Steve hesitates for a long moment in the doorway, his breathing just slightly labored in his anger. He doesn’t say anything, though, and eventually he just shakes his head and walks out to start dinner. He won’t admit that everything Bucky picked out for him is perfect, just his style, that he’s sure it’s all exactly his size. Not to himself and not out loud. Not yet, anyway.

[ **Steve:** This was a bad idea]

He shoots the text off between grabbing food from the fridge and grabbing pans from the cabinets. He gets a reply instantly and they start going back and forth while Steve preps everything.

[ **Nat:** Why? Because you’re falling even more in love with him? ;P]

[ **Steve:** He’s buying me clothes now!]

[ **Nat:** What a wicked and vile man, replacing your t-shirts that are all see-through or ripped or covered in paint or some combination thereof]

[ **Steve:** They’re not _all_ that bad!]

[ **Steve:** This is exactly what I was afraid of]

Bucky still hasn’t come out of the bedroom now and Steve can only assume he’s either putting all the clothes away, or putting them back in the bags to take them back. If he’s really one hundred percent honest with himself, he’s sure it’s the former; he hopes it’s the former. But he’s never really honest with himself regarding these kinds of things, so he tells himself he hopes it’s the latter.

[ **Nat:** What? Someone being nice to you?]

[ **Nat:** You were afraid he was going to start being extra nice to you?]

[ **Nat:** Do you know how stupid that sounds?]

Steve sucks in a ragged breath and practically growls as he tosses everything in the pan and turns the heat down low. The second he gets the timer set he’s video calling her.

“Do you know how stupid that sounds?” she says in place of a greeting as she answers. She’s giving him a look that could kill and he feels his cheeks flush.

“ _Kindness out of some fucked up sense of obligation isn’t really kindness,”_ he signs to her – they’d all learned when Clint started losing his hearing their first year of college.

“Oh, is he around?” she asks, then switches to signing. “ _Don’t want him to hear you bitching? Maybe that’s because you know it’s stupid and you shouldn’t be complaining.”_

“ _Oh_ , why do I even talk to you?” Steve says, though he doesn’t really mean it.

“Because you know I’m right and you need someone just as stubborn as you to kick your ass sometimes,” she shoots back, grinning. She switches back to sign again. “ _He’s not doing this stuff out of some sense of obligation. He’s doing it because he’s a good person with good fortune and you’re someone who means a lot to him whose life fucking sucks. He doesn’t feel like he has to, he just wants to anyway.”_

“ _How do you know? How do you know for sure?”_

_“Because that’s how we all feel you idiot.”_

Steve just flips her off, though he knows she’s right. Even if he won’t admit it to himself.

“ _If anything, he has the least reason to feel any obligation out of all of us,”_ Natasha points out. _“So just shut up and say thank you and let him be your sugar daddy_.”

“Oh fuck off!” Steve says, but he can’t help the surprised laughter that bubbles up.

“Love you too,” Nat says, practically cackling, as he hangs up on her.

“Good to know you’re equally as mean to all your friends,” Bucky says with a quiet laugh from behind him just as he’s shoving his phone in his pocket and focusing back on the food.

Steve sighs and his head drops for a moment as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Natasha’s words are stuck in his brain – _because that’s how we all feel you idiot –_ and he knows she’s right, no matter how much he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Sorry for snapping at you,” Steve says quietly. “And thank you, for thinking about me and caring about me and for… everything.”

“Stevie,” the brunet starts, stepping up to him and resting a hand on his shoulder, “you’re, like, my _best friend._ You have to know you’re not just, like, some stray dog on the side of the street that I feel sorry for. It’s not like that.”

“I know,” Steve admits with another sigh, “I know. I’ve just always felt like I had to prove that I can do things myself, that just because I’m small and- “ he catches himself and shakes his head, “ _whatever_ , I’m not helpless. I took care of myself through _everything_ when I was a kid and my mom was working, like, sixty-plus hour weeks, and then when she was in treatment. I just… always feel like I have to prove I can make it on my own. That I don’t need anyone.”

Bucky shoves gently at Steve’s shoulder until he turns, then he pulls him into a tight hug. “I know you can make it on your own, everyone knows that. But you don’t gotta. And even if you couldn’t, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with that. Stevie either way there’s nothing wrong with accepting help from people who love you.”

“I guess,” Steve mumbles into the older man’s shoulder. “Maybe eventually I’ll believe you.”


	7. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet the family (or, Becca, at least)!

[ **Bucky:** Guess who showed up hours earlier than they said they were going to]

[ **Bucky:** Unsurprisingly]

[ **Bucky:** I knew I should have stayed home today. Dammit. I’m sorry.]

Steve’s eyes go wide as he reads the texts. He’s nowhere  _near_ ready, still in his paint-covered, hole-filled clothes as he works out on the balcony.

[ **Steve:** How long do I have?]

That sounds calm enough, right? Oh god. He scrambles to start putting paints away, sealing up custom-mixed colors, while he waits for a response. He has to clean up and shower and get changed and- fuck! Is half his shit still in the guest room? Fuck. He switches instantly to working on getting the last of his stuff into Bucky’s bedroom. That’s priority number one. After way too long he finally gets a response.

[ **Bucky:** I bought us some time]

[ **Bucky:** I talked them into dropping their stuff off at the hotel first]

[ **Bucky:** But not long. Maybe half hour? Hour absolute tops]

[ **Bucky:** I’m already on my way back now]

And Steve breathes a sigh of relief at that at least. He’d been able to distract himself the past week, forcing himself to forget the fact that he’s going to be meeting Bucky’s family as his boyfriend, going to have to be close and intimate with him. It won’t be too far off from how they are normally, really. Still, though, that extra bit of intimacy and affection is intimidating and Steve’s nervous about how it’s going to affect him – and not affect Bucky - and about what it’s going to do to his feelings and their friendship once his family leaves.

Either way, it’s too late to back out now.

He’s just started back on moving his painting supplies back into the guest room just as Bucky’s letting himself in the front door.

“How long do I have?” Steve calls out as he’s hauling an armful of acrylic paints through the sliding glass door.

“Not long enough,” calls back a female voice, giggling from the guest room, and Steve’s heart stops.

He steps through the door and even if he’d just run into her on the street he’d know instantly that this is Bucky’s sister. They’re not similar enough to look like twins, but the family resemblance is there without a doubt. She’s got long brown hair the same shade as Bucky’s with bangs cut across her forehead and almost the same exact crooked grin, similar grey-blue eyes, the same nose.

“Apparently not,” Steve says with a chuckle, trying to play it cool. He sets his armful of paints down on the desk and wipes his hands on his shirt before holding the right out to shake. “Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you.”

“Rebecca Barnes,” she replies, her grin growing wider. “You can call me Becca. Of course it would be you,” she giggles. “I knew it. He never gave us a name, but the way he talked about you, well- Of _course_ it would be you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks with a nervous laugh as he starts heading back out to the balcony for another load and Becca follows him.

“Did you paint that?” she asks, changing the subject, as Steve gingerly grabs the painting from the small table. “And all the ones in the guest room? Oh, I guess it’s kinda your studio now, huh?”

Steve miraculously finds himself not as annoyed when she asks it. Maybe it’s because she follows up by grabbing his rags and water bowl and paint brushes. “None of them are finished yet,” he says as they make their way back into the apartment, “but yeah.”

“That’s amazing,” Becca gushes. “You’re _really_ good. You must have put so much fucking time and effort into honing that shit.” And suddenly Steve has forgiven the ‘did you paint that?’ question. Because who ever acknowledges the work it takes to become good at making art? Not enough people, that’s for sure.

Steve’s blushing as he forces a laugh from his lips. It comes out sounding more nervous and tense than he’d intended. “I’m alright,” he says with a little shrug.

“ _No,_ really, you’re _so_ skilled,” she insists, doing a quick circle of the room once her hands are free. “It’s no wonder Jamie’s so in love with you.”

Steve feels his cheeks burning even hotter and he wipes his hands on his shirt again. “Is that your bag?” Steve asks, just now noticing the duffle on the bed. _Oh look, we’re both asking stupid questions today_ , he thinks, mildly amused. “Bucky said you guys were dropping that stuff off at the hotel first.”

“Oh, yeah,” Becca says with a grin. “It’s tradition for me to stay with him the first night we’re in town, just the two of us. Like a little sleepover. Like when we were little, ya know? So I headed over first. We’re meeting mom and dad at the restaurant in a little bit.”

Steve’s smile turns more sincere and he stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I can go stay with one of our friends tonight, if I’m imposing,” he suggests, hopeful at the prospect of a night of relief, of avoiding a night sharing a bed with his crush.

“No way!” Becca shouts, that grin growing again. “You’re like my new brother or something, you totally have to be included!” And then she giggles again in that way Steve is already getting fond of.

She’s probably not that much younger than him, really, but he can already feel himself slipping into big brother mode over her just like he and Clint did with Katie Bishop and her ragtag group of friends.

“As long as you’re sure,” Steve says faux-sternly.

“I’m sure,” Becca replies and holds up a fist, pinky extended. “Promise.”

Steve barks out a surprised laugh and links his pinky with hers. “You can’t break pinky promises,” he teases her.

“I would never!” she pretends to be offended, but then busts out in giggles half-way through it. “But hey, I’m pretty sure you need a shower. You’re covered in paint and we’re going to a really nice restaurant for dinner. I can entertain myself until Bucky gets back, go ahead.”

“Oh god, I almost forgot all about dinner,” Steve groans a little as he looks down at his paint-covered hands. He can only imagine how much he managed to get on his face and in his hair. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can work his TV. He should be home soon anyway,” she insists, shooing him with dismissive hands and a smile.

“Okay, okay,” Steve replies, chuckling, and holds up his hands in surrender. “I won’t be long.”

“I’ll be here,” Rebecca says with a goofy, melodramatic salute and they part ways.

Steve is already so tired he barely marvels over the master bathroom inside of Bucky’s room. The shower is twice as big as the one in the guest bath and he doesn’t realize how tense his shoulders had been until he finally gets under the warm water and that perfect water pressure. This is going to be a long week.

He tries to shower quickly, though he does allow himself to take extra care to get the paint off his hands, something he’d normally let wear itself off in a couple of hours or days. He’s sure it hasn’t been more than ten minutes by the time he turns the water off and wraps the towel around his waist. The tension is starting to return to his shoulders, but nowhere near as much as when he steps into the bedroom and Bucky is sitting on the edge of the bed.

Steve jumps and muffles a startled shout, gripping his towel tighter in one hand and making a half-assed attempt to cross the other over his chest in some stupid attempt at modesty. “Jesus Buck,” he curses, panting softly. “Scared the fuckin’ shit outta me.”

Bucky is smirking as he looks up, but his eyes look apologetic at least. “Sorry Stevie, I thought you’d heard me come in,” he says, standing but making no attempt to look away or give him any privacy.

Steve drops the arm that’s across his chest as, in his relief, he forgets himself for a moment. Bucky’s eyes catch the faded scar just under his left collarbone, the slight bump just below that, and Steve flushes and turns away, hoping Bucky won’t piece it together. Even as he thinks it, though, he knows it’s stupid. Bucky’s a _biomedical_ engineer. Of course he’d know it, even from only a fraction of a second’s glance.

“Steve…” the brunet starts, slow, hesitant, if not just a little panicked, “you’ve got a pacemaker.” It’s definitely not a question.

Steve grimaces a little as he reluctantly turns back to his friend. “Uh… yeah,” he admits, free hand coming up to trace along the scar, to cover it.

Bucky blinks at him for a long moment before finally asking, “Weren’t you just saying, like, a month or two ago how you haven’t been to the doctor in, like, three years?”

And the blond’s grimace twists up more, almost apologetic. He’s already had this conversation with Tony and Sam _and_ Natasha about a million times. But he knows there’s no escaping having it again now. He purses his lips and shrugs and wanders over to the dresser for a clean pair of boxers. “I, uh, I believe I was James, yes.” He just hopes he can get it to move along quickly.

Bucky lets out a low hum as he watches Steve’s movements, then he nods a little and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well… that explains why everyone else was _that_ mad about it,” he says after a long moment.

“Uhhhh… yepp,” is all Steve replies as he slips on the boxers, then finally drops his towel and makes his way to the closet with all the nice new clothes Bucky bought for him.

There’s another long, tense silence, but at least Bucky starts getting himself ready too this time. Steve’s just buttoning up his dress shirt when Bucky finally speaks again.

“So… I just… You- You know you need to have that thing checked _at least_ once a year, right?”

Steve huffs out a sigh and ruffles his shaggy hair back into place. “Yeah, I know, I know. But I don’t exactly have insurance, ya know?”

“So apply for Medicaid,” Bucky shoots back without hesitation.

Steve sighs again and shakes his head a little. “It’s too much work Buck. And they kick you off it all the time for no damn reason. And god forbid I get on my meds again and then have to cut them cold turkey like before. It’s not worth the trouble. My heart’s been fine. Not a beat out of place until just now when you scared the crap out of me.”

Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but he’s interrupted by Becca knocking on the door and calling, “Are you two ready yet? If we get there before them we can catch a drink at the bar.”

“Yeah, we’re ready,” Steve calls back and hurries to open the door. He’s relieved to find he had correctly assumed Bucky wouldn’t continue the argument with his sister present.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Bucky calls, a warning, as the other two make their way down the short hall, already chatting about color palettes.


	8. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with the family!

Steve’s shoulders had been slowly getting more and more tense the closer they got to the Upper East Side, an absolute mess of knots by the time they stop in front of the most ritzy restaurant he’s ever been to. _You two aren’t even actually dating,_  he tries to remind himself.  _So what if they don’t like you?_

It doesn’t help.

“Of course they’d pick this place,” Bucky mumbles to himself under his breath. Steve hears it and the irony isn’t wasted on him. Bucky doesn’t even know.

He glances at Steve next to him and his fear must be written all over his face because the older man steps in front of him, an apologetic smile on his face. “They’re going to love you,” he reassures him quietly and leans forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. 

Steve’s heart skips a beat and his stomach jumps into his throat _. Why didn’t they practice this part like they do in fanfic?_  he whines internally. Still, he knew it would have to come eventually and he is a very good liar (which is all acting is, really, right? Sure, we’ll go with that), so he manages to play it cool even though every nerve in his body is thrumming.

“As long as  _you_  love me,” he says and leans forward to steal a kiss of his own, “that’s all that matters to me.”

Bucky smiles and brings his right hand up to rest on Steve’s cheek and the blond leans into the touch right on cue. “You know I do Stevie.”

“You guys are  _disgustingly_ cute,” Becca interjects from next to them, her face scrunched up in a mix of faux disgust and real affection. “Come on, let’s go before you make me cry. Or puke. Or both.”

Bucky laughs and rolls his eyes fondly, taking Steve’s hand in his as he nods. “Yeah, let’s go,” he agrees, lacing their fingers as he leads them into the restaurant.

Bucky and Becca’s parents are already seated at a table by the windows, a perfect view of sparkling city lights visible outside of them. Steve takes a deep breath to steady himself, memories of dinners with Tony and their parents (back before their parents were all dead) mixing with the nerves of the night and making him shake.

Bucky must feel it, because as they’re making their way across the floor he rests a hand on the small of his back and whispers into his ear, “Are you okay?”

Steve forces a smile and nods, his cheeks pinking up again. “Yeah, yeah, it’s unrelated. I’m okay,” he whispers back, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek for show as they’re approaching their table.

“Get ready to barf,” Becca says to her parents, teasing, as she flops into a chair next to her mother.

Bucky rolls his eyes again and lets go of Steve just long enough to go and hug his parents. They exchange introductions and pleasantries and Bucky pulls Steve’s chair out for him, drawing yet another blush to his cheeks. This is going to be a long night if he keeps this shit up. They make small talk as they order their drinks and food; it isn’t until the appetizers are done that the tough questions start up.

“So, Steve,” Bucky’s dad – George – starts, “what do you do?”

Steve hears some judgement in the question, but he knows it’s probably all in his head so he tries to ignore it. Still, his cheeks burn red for what feels like the millionth time tonight and he forces a smile to his face and glances to Bucky. “I’m an artist,” he says, and if the sympathy in the look Bucky gives him back is any indication his nerves are showing on his face again. The brunet reaches out a hand and rests it on his knee, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“He’s  _amazing!_ ” Becca gushes, and Steve ducks his head, a shy smile on his face.

“I’m okay,” he says with a little shrug. “Not good enough to get steady work yet,” he admits. Might as well get it out of the way.

“But that’s okay, babe, like I keep telling you,” Bucky interjects with a wide smile and an arm around his shoulders, tugging him closer so he’s half off his seat. “You are _that_ good,” he goes on, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “we just need the right person to find your work. He’s working on a series right now that he’s going to pitch to a gallery in Williamsburg,” he addresses his parents that time. “It’s mind-blowing.”

“It really is,” Becca chimes in. “He’s going to be rich and famous for sure.”

“It’s great that you’re in a position where you can focus on your art,” Winnifred – Bucky’s mom – says, beaming. “So few people chase their dreams and make money with their passions. I’m glad James can help you while you get your career going.”

To say Steve is shocked is an understatement. He was fully expecting the glares, the unsaid accusations that he’s a lazy freeloader who’s just using Bucky for his money. It’s what most parents would think in this situation. He was completely ready to carry their disdain on his shoulders for the rest of he and Bucky’s friendship. But, apparently, he won’t have to.

“We’re very big supporters of the arts,” George says, confirming that Steve’s shock is written all over his face, no matter how hard he’d tried to school his expression. “And it’s obvious how much you two love each other.”

“We’ll be waiting for the wedding invitation,” Freddie adds with a wink.

“Hey, that could solve your health insurance problem!” Becca chimes, tipping her drink in the couple’s direction.

“What?” Steve almost chokes, but Bucky’s head tilts, that dangerous expression spreading across his face, the one he gets when he’s scheming.

“Steve’s got a pacemaker and no health insurance to get it checked out,” she explains to her parents as Bucky is suspiciously silent, not even an argument about eavesdropping.

“That’s very serious,” Winnie says, pressing a hand to her chest, her brow furrowed in motherly concern.

“It’s a good idea,” George says, nodding in Becca’s direction. “Plenty of couples get married a little earlier than planned for things like insurance or whatever. And now that you two  _can_ -“

“Shit, plenty of people get married without loving each other at all for less,” Becca cuts him off and rolls her eyes.

“Exactly,” adds Freddie. “And it’s obvious how much you two love each other. You two are going to go the distance, I can feel it. A mother always knows.”

“You guys are basically an old married couple anyway,” Becca chimes with a smirk.

Steve’s sure he’s gone white, his heart starting to race just slightly as he turns to lock eyes with Bucky. “No, I mean, we shouldn’t. We wouldn’t want to get married for the wrong reasons, right?”

There’s too long of a silence where the older man searches his eyes and Steve sees that damn lightbulb on.

Fuck.

“I think we should Stevie,” he says, voice void of all pretenses, just like Steve knew he would. The he slips the act back on like a tailored suit and smiles softly, reaching his metal hand up to cup Steve’s cheek. “I know it’s earlier than we talked about, but you  _really_ need insurance baby. And you know mine is great. You gotta take care of that heart sweetie. Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

His family is eating the whole thing up, totally loving it. But this is all an act and they  _aren’t_ dating. Has Bucky lost his damn mind?

Steve flounders for a minute, in utter disbelief that his friend would even consider doing something this stupid, but finally he manages to compose himself enough to lean into the touch, a hand reaching out to rub along his knee. “James, why don’t we talk about this later, huh babe? Getting married is a  _big_  deal that we _really_  need to talk over some more before we make a decision. I mean, I just moved in two days ago.” Bucky makes a face at him, eyebrows raised, that tells the younger man just how serious he is, act or no act. But Steve just goes on, “Let’s not bog down dinner with all that. How long has it been since you’ve seen your parents, huh? We can worry about  _us_  tomorrow after Becca heads back to the hotel.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky finally concedes, grin lighting up his face again. He leans forward to press a kiss to Steve’s forehead, then to the tip of his nose. “You’re right, as usual,” he says, then presses a kiss to his lips.

And, _fuck_ , is this going to be a long week, Steve thinks.

 

*

 

“No,” Steve says firmly the second the bedroom door closes behind him. Becca is in the guest room getting changed into her pajamas before popcorn and a movie and they managed to slip away to Bucky’s bedroom under the same pretense.

Bucky turns and looks at him, eyebrows raised as he unbuttons his shirt. “Think about it Steve,” he says. “It’s a perfect solution.”

“Buck,” Steve replies, stepping forward and smushing the older man’s face between his hands. “ _We’re not even dating_ ,” he whispers so Becca won’t hear if she’s eavesdropping again.

“So?” Bucky whispers back, tugging his face free. “Plenty of people marry their friends for insurance or green cards or student loans or whatever you gotta do. Shit, some people marry strangers for ‘em. We don’t even have to get rings or do anything fancy or even tell anyone.”

“You really think your family is going to let that fly?” the blond asks, skeptical.

“We’ll tell them we’re doing it low-key for now and we’re waiting on a big fancy ceremony until you make a break in your career or something.”

“You are putting _way_ too much thought into this,” he says, shaking his head. “No.”

“Just sleep on it Stevie,” Bucky practically begs, peeling his shirt off and working on his belt. “Don’t turn me down yet.”

“After this week I won’t even be living here,” Steve hisses quietly, flushing and turning his back to the older man and his lack of modesty. He riffles through the drawer he’d shoved his clothes into earlier, looking for some pajamas. “No.”

“Then just  _stay_.”

Steve turns to him, PJs successfully in hand, and flashes his friend a stern look. “No,” he repeats, then disappears into the bathroom.

“Just sleep on it baby,” Bucky calls again after him.


	9. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve had thought shit had hit the fan before, but he was _so_ underestimating.

The next few days with Bucky’s family go by fairly easily and mostly without incident. They’re really great people and Steve manages to spend the time when Bucky’s at work mostly alone, occasionally punctuated by his family stopping by for a little while to visit and have lunch and sometimes Becca hangs around to watch him paint. They go to the ballet and a show on Broadway and Steve finds himself grateful Bucky had bought him some nice clothes because he would have been _fucked_ if not. And through all of it, Bucky doesn’t bring up the marriage thing again, so Steve doesn’t think about it. It’s not happening.

On Friday Steve gets ready to meet Bucky and his parents for dinner again. Bucky is heading straight there from work and there’s no interruptions from Becca and Steve finds himself grateful for the quiet. Tonight and two more days and then he and Bucky can stop the hand-holding and stealing kisses in front of his family that have his heart racing way too frequently lately.

Steve gets to the restaurant just barely late and blames the subway and getting lost in the Upper East Side (“I was raised in Brooklyn guys!”), but it’s all bullshit. He lost track of time trying to figure out which outfit to wear and what to do with his over-grown hair. But the meal is delicious and the conversation is good and everything is going just fucking fine. Until dessert.

The waiter brings out Steve’s dessert last, and with it he brings a bouquet of pale blue delphinium (his favorite flower, as he’s sure Nat must have told Bucky) and white roses. The actual sweet treat is a slice chocolate cake with artfully arranged shards of colored chocolate and sugars and looped in chocolate syrup at the bottom of the plate it reads “Will you marry me?” with a ring placed next to it made of delicately carved silver made to look like vines. It’s even got little leaves.

Steve is _furious_ , and Bucky is definitely going to get an earful for this bullshit later, but for now thankfully Bucky’s family doesn’t read the anger in his shocked silence. Bucky does, though, instantly. But Steve’s not going to cause a scene in this restaurant, in front of his family, just like he’s sure the older man had counted that he wouldn’t. Bucky can break it to his mom later that they called the engagement off.

“Whatta ya say?” Bucky asks him after a moment, his smile nervous. As it should be, Steve thinks.

Still, he thinks fast and forces a smile to his face and turns to the older man, taking his hands and lacing their fingers together. “Yes,” he says and presses a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “But some day, in the future. There’s no rush baby. My answer is yes, but we’re not going down to the courthouse tomorrow for something like insurance, got it?”

Bucky grins, amused and pleasantly surprised, and takes the ring from the plate. “I heard yes,” he teases, sliding the ring onto Steve’s finger. It fits perfectly, of course it does. He’s probably been planning this since Monday night. “We’ll work out the ‘when’ after we celebrate. Deal?”

 

*

 

“Are you kidding me?!” Steve shouts the second he slams the front door behind him. Bucky’s already toeing off his shoes and he flinches just a little.

“Whaaaaat?” Bucky crows, turning to him, but behind his grin he’s got a guilty look in his eyes.

“That was _so_ fucking shitty of you James!” He kicks off his shoes but is gentle setting the flowers on the counter at least. He barely manages to tug his dress shirt over his head before he’s heading back to Bucky’s bedroom. If they’re fighting all night like a real couple, he’s doing it in his goddamn pajamas.

“I meant it!” Bucky calls, chasing after him.

“I know you did!” Steve snipes back as Bucky makes his way into the room, shirt already abandoned in the hallway. “That’s the worst part! Have you lost your fucking _mind_? And, like, are you even _aware_ of how fucking manipulative that was?!”

“What?!” Bucky asks, appalled, and freezes half-way through tugging his pants down. “It was _romantic_!” he argues, though that guilt is still there, behind his eyes, under his tone.

“It _would have been_ ,” Steve explains as he tugs on his oversized v-neck and glares at his friend, “if we were _actually_ dating! But this is all an act and we were surrounded by _your_ family and you’re doing me this _huge_ favor or whatever, so you used your position of power to put me in a situation where I couldn’t really say no.”

Bucky’s face drops and his eyes go wide with the realization. “Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, bringing one hand up to his face. He pales a little and scrunches up his face as he replays the whole thing over in his head. “I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t trying… Fuck!” He looks at the younger man and looks sincerely apologetic this time. “Stevie, that wasn’t what I was trying to do. I was trying to show you how _serious_ I am about this. I feel like you keep refusing my help because you think I’m just asking because I don’t know how serious of a decision this is, or out of obligation, but I have and I’m not. I’ve spent all week thinking this through and I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t one hundred percent mean it, for life or however long you need me for.” His tone goes softer as he goes on, “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I’ve been given so many fucking gifts in this life. I just want to give back.”

His words and sincerity settle Steve just a little, but he’s still angry. “Whatever Buck,” he mutters, throwing his hands up. “Go give to a damn children’s hospital or something then.” Then he storms out of the room, slamming both bedroom doors as he goes.

For a minute Bucky’s stuck to the spot, fists clenched at his sides, shoulders tense, jaw clenched as his guilt fades and frustration replaces it. He shoves his dress pants off in a fit of flailing limbs and storms out of his room,  into the guest room, throwing doors open as he goes.

“You know what? No!” and it’s his turn to shout as he stands in the doorway red and shaking. “You are deserving of love and fucking care! And whether it’s platonic or romantic or _whatever_ , I love you Steve! So you’re just gonna hafta get fucking used to it! I’m not gonna just sit by and watch you kill yourself because you can’t get over your-fucking-self! Is that what your mom would want?” Steve opens his mouth to scream, argue, fight back, do _something_ , but Bucky doesn’t even give him a chance. “You think she’d want your goddamn pride getting in the way of you taking care of yourself? Having a stable roof over your head? A _real_ chance at a career in art? Grow the fuck up Steve! Fuck!”

And then it’s his turn to slam doors on his way out and they’re both so angry they’re both shaking now.

Steve looks to the pictures of him and his mom that he’d left in this room. The ones where she’s young and healthy catch his eye first, but then they settle on the pictures from the chemo and all the anger drains out of him, replaced by guilt and shame and sorrow and pure exhaustion all the way down to his bones, his soul. And in that moment, he knows Bucky’s right, they’re all right, have been all along. He can practically hear his mom’s voice saying it. She didn’t have a choice, there is no cure for cancer, but he can’t keep running himself ragged like this, can’t neglect illnesses that are totally treatable until they kill him anyway. She’d never let him live it down.

Fuck.

He looks down at the ring still on his left hand and heaves a sigh. It takes every ounce of strength he’s got to push himself off the bed and move his feet across the floor. And when he opens the door to Bucky’s room, his friend’s cheeks are wet with silent tears.

“Buck…” Steve starts and walks over to him. He sits down next to him but Bucky pulls him into his arms and into his lap.

“I just can’t lose you,” he whispers. “Not like that. Not when I could have _done something_ about it.” And Steve knows there must be a story there, but he isn’t going to push for it. Not now.

“Let’s do it,” Steve whispers back instead, and he really can’t believe he’s saying it. He thinks he must have lost his _own_ damn mind. “With the right paperwork, it can be done tomorrow, with your family there and everything. You were right. My mom put herself through hell keeping me alive when I was a kid. I can’t let that go to waste.”

“You really mean it?” Bucky asks, sniffling, resting his forehead on the blond’s shoulder.

“Mhm,” Steve hums, leaning his head against the older man’s. “I mean it. Let’s get married.”


	10. Chapter 8

So that’s how Steve ends up at the courthouse the next day with Bucky’s family and a couple of their closest friends and a ring on his finger. On Monday Bucky had said they didn’t have to tell their friends, but they both knew that was a lie. They were going to question Steve moving in with Bucky suddenly and being able to go to the doctor again. Not to mention it was more than likely they’d end up tagged in “wedding” pictures posted on Winnifred’s Facebook. They figured it was just better if they told their friends themselves – the  _whole_ story.

Sam had been skeptical and texted Steve after they hung up that he didn’t really think it was a good idea. Tony had been ecstatic, though he hadn’t entirely believed them that it was all for the insurance, for show. Natasha already knew since Bucky had asked her for Steve’s favorite flower and ring size. Steve wasn’t really sure how Natasha knew his ring size, especially considering he didn’t even know that himself, but he was  _not_ about to question it. Clint knew because Natasha knew, of course. He made it pretty clear he felt about the same as Tony.

Everyone is dressed up fairly nicely and there’s not much ceremony at all, neither of them being religious. What little ceremony they have goes quickly and ends with a kiss that Steve feels all the way in his toes. He blushes and forces out a laugh as he playfully shoves the brunet away with a “Not in front of your _parents_ ,” as cover.  _Oh god_ , he thinks. He is  _so_ glad this part ends after breakfast tomorrow. He is in _too_ deep for this shit.

“Party at my place tonight to celebrate!” Tony calls out over the cheers.

Steve turns and shoots him a look and signs, “ _We’re not really married, idiot.”_

“ _Yes you are,”_ Natasha signs with a smirk.

And Tony chimes in with, “ _Just an excuse to party. Chill out.”_

“You’re _really_  going to have to start teaching me ASL hun,” Bucky says with a soft laugh and wraps an arm around Steve’s waist, pulling him in close.

“I was just reminding Tony we’re going to dinner with your family tonight, since they’re leaving tomorrow,” Steve lies, batting his lashes at the brunet.

Bucky kisses his forehead and shoots him a look that his family won’t catch, but  _Steve_ knows means that Bucky knows he’s full of shit.

“And  _I_ was reminding him we can do it after dinner,” Tony says with a triumphant grin.

“Yeah, we won’t hold you guys up so long you can’t go have some fun,” Winnie says, beaming. “And anyway, we’ve still got breakfast tomorrow with you guys before we head out.”

“Might want to make it brunch,” Becca teases them with a wink.

Steve flushes and leans into Bucky’s side as the older man tightens his arm around his waist just a little bit, just for show.

“We won’t get  _too_ drunk,” he teases his sister back.

“We’ll _try_  not to,” Steve half-jokes. Sam shoots him a sympathetic look.

“So it’s settled then!” Tony beams and claps his hands. “We’ll make sure everything’s ready. Just text us when you’re on your way.”

Their friends say their goodbyes and head their separate ways for now and then they’re alone with Bucky’s family.

Freddie is just absolutely glowing as she looks at them, happier than he thinks he’s ever seen  _anyone_. She steps forward and pulls them both into a hug. “Welcome to the family sweetheart,” she says, kissing Steve’s cheek. She takes his hands and looks into his eyes, her own brimming with tears that won’t quite spill over. “Thank you for taking such good care of my boy, and making him so happy. The change I’ve seen in him these past six months-“

“Ma,” Bucky whines, running a hand down his now-red face and shooting her a look.

“Well, anyway, I’m just so glad to see him so happy,” Freddie says and squeezes the blond’s hands gently.

“He’s way out of your league ya know,” Becca teases her brother as she pulls him into a hug. “I’m happy for you,” she whispers into his ear.

“Marriage isn’t easy,” George says, taking Winnifred’s hand in his, “but when your love is as strong as it is with you two, it will overcome anything, and it’s worth every hurdle along the way.”

Bucky and Steve are both blooming red from the tips of their ears down their chests and the brunet forces out a laugh. “Okay guys, geez. The museum awaits, let’s go. We’re already running late.”

 

*

 

I can’t believe Tony is throwing a party for this,” Bucky says with a chuckle as they’re heading over to his apartment after dinner with his family.

“He said ‘any excuse for a party, right?’,” Steve replies with a snort. “When we were signing.”

“I knew you were lying!” he teases with a bump to his hip. And Steve at least has the decency to look sheepish.

“We should have saved it for when I get accepted into that show,” Steve jokes.

“Guess we’ll just have to have another one then instead,” Bucky quips back, waggling his eyebrows as he pushes the intercom for Tony to buzz them up.

The blond snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, if it ever happens,” he mutters.

The door buzzer goes off and Tony must be holding the button because he hears him shout, “The newlyweds are here!”

“It’s going to,” Bucky assures him, ignoring Tony as he holds the door open and lets them both into the building. “Shit, Becca said she’s going to drive back here and buy that one with the pink and purple palette when it goes up.”

Steve flushes at that and playfully shoves Bucky into the elevator. “She takes after you,” he teases, “full of shit.”

Bucky barks out a laugh and shoves him back. “What a nice way to talk to your husband,” he jokes.

The room explodes with cheers the second they open the door and Steve vaguely wonders how many of the rest of their friends are aware the relationship is fake and the marriage is for the insurance. Then he steps over the threshold and there’s a huge banner in Clint’s sloppy scrawl and signature purple that reads “Congrats on your (fake?) marriage!”

Well, that answers that at least.


	11. Chapter 9

Sunday morning they have breakfast with Bucky’s family and see them off and when they get home Steve immediately sets to work finishing up those paintings. It’s a set of thirteen and he’s only got a week left to finish all of them so he can submit them for the show. The issue is that he’s a perfectionist, so he makes so many alterations and adjusts so many tiny little details that no one else is going to even notice that he barely even finishes on time. And even then he really only stops because Bucky physically stands between him and the canvas and takes his face in his hands and reminds him of the deadline and that if he doesn’t force himself to stop he’ll be tweaking it until he ruins it.

So thanks to Bucky he gets it in on time and they tell him they’ll call him when they make a decision. And then he waits. And waits. And waits.

Days turn into a week and that turns into two. Steve still hasn’t moved his stuff from Bucky’s room, though when he does sleep it’s usually passed out across the desk in the guest room with a drawing or concept sketch under him. Sometimes he ends up on the floor, and a few times he even manages to make it to the bed, though he never makes it under the covers. He starts making doctor’s appointments when the insurance kicks in but none of the offices have anything for another few weeks so he doesn’t even have that to distract him.

It’s _torture_ and Steve is so stressed out he thinks his heart might stop. But, hey, at least he has insurance now if he has to be rushed to the ER, right?

Then, finally, Saturday just before the three week mark his phone rings. He’s making a big, hearty dinner for him and Bucky before everyone meets up for a night of bar and possibly club hopping when it happens and it just about scares him out of his skin. He’s been so on edge, he swears to god he jumps a foot in the air.

Bucky whirls around instantly from where he’s perched on the couch looking for something to watch and in his excitement practically shouts, ”Is that them?!”

Steve’s eyes are wide as he snatches his phone off the counter and nods frantically as he answers. “Steve Rogers.”

Bucky abandons the remote and clambers over the back of the couch, bouncing on his toes as he stops just in front of the blond.

“Hey Steve, it’s Syd from Driggs Ave,” the voice on the other end of the line says. “How are you doing?”

“Put it on speaker,” Bucky hisses, so he does.

“Oh, hey Syd. I’m doing pretty good. How about you?” he replies. Bucky just beams and flashes him two thumbs up.

“I’m doing good, thanks. I’m calling about your submission for the upcoming show.”

Steve can hear his heart beating in his ears, knows he’s holding his breath. He manages a strained, “Oh, yeah?”

Syd lets out a hum in answer and pauses, Steve can only assume because she’s watched too many reality TV shows, but Steve can hear her grin as she finally says, “Yepp. Just wanted to offer my congratulations. You’re in if you want the spot.”

Bucky clamps his hands over his mouth to stop a scream and Steve’s whole body is trembling, his voice strained and shaky as he asks, “For real?! Yes! Uh, I mean, yeah, yeah I definitely want the spot.”

She laughs and Steve can hear her keyboard clacking on the other end. “For real,” she says. “We’ll have a meeting to go over everything. I’ll email you the details. Congrats again Steve.”

“I’ll look out for your email then,” he says, then thanks her again and hangs up.

“I knew it!” Bucky shouts the second the call ends. He laughs as he picks the blond up and spins him around.

Steve lets out a yelp and laughs and whacks at Bucky’s chest playfully. “Put me down!” he demands, still laughing. “I’m gonna barf on you!”

“I knew you’d make it!” Bucky shouts again as he sets him back on his own two feet. Then he takes Steve’s face in his hands and kisses him square on the mouth.

Steve’s heart skips a beat, his knees go weak. It’s only then, when he feels the warm metal on Bucky’s right hand against his cheek, that he realizes Bucky’s still wearing his wedding ring. And it’s only then that he realizes he’s still wearing his own.

Oh.

Bucky seems to realize himself then, and he pulls back suddenly.

“Oh, shit!” he gasps, his face turning red instantly. “Shit Stevie, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-“

He cuts off abruptly at the blond’s expression. Steve’s eyes are wide and he’s sure he’s pink all the way down to his toes, his mouth hanging open slightly as he blinks at the older man.

“Awh shit, I’m sorry Stevie,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. Then the pot on the stove starts bubbling over and he curses loudly and lunges forward, reaching around the younger man to turn the heat down. He blushes even darker when he realizes just how close the action put them – chest to chest now. He lingers there a moment too long and that seems to shake Steve from his thoughts.

“What part of that  _exactly_ are you apologizing for?” Steve asks slowly, eyes landing everywhere but Bucky’s face.

“For… kissing you?” he says it like a question, like he’s not sure.

Steve rolls his eyes and shoves the older man away gently. He’s done playing pretend, playing games. He’s done with hiding things. “But why?” he asks. “What part of it? We need to talk about this. You’re still wearing your wedding ring, you know.”

“So’re you,” Bucky replies, his cheeks pinking up again.

“That’s because I’m practically in love with you,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest like he’s mad about it or something. “And I kinda forgot I was wearing it.”

Steve can see the gears turning in Bucky’s head and his eyes go wide. “You’re what?” he asks.

The blond’s eyes flick up to meet his only briefly before settling back on their feet, not toe to toe anymore, but still so close. “You heard me,” he grumbles. “Are we gonna talk about it now or what?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Bucky says and then he rushes forward again and crushes Steve in a kiss. When he pulls back, both of them breathless, Steve braves a look in his eyes and they’re sparkling, a grin on his lips. “I love you too.”

“Well what took you so long you idiot?” Steve practically shouts, shoving him again gently before pulling him back in for another searing kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the love and support you showed for this story!! There may or may not be a little epilogue/bonus whatever posted or added to this at some point in the future ^_^ Again, thank you guys so much for reading and commenting, leaving kudos, etc. It really means the world.<3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! I really hope you liked it! ^_^
> 
> If so, comments/kudos/etc mean the _world_ to us writers. Really. It's so greatly appreciated. <3 <3 <3
> 
> And, as always, you can find me on [tumblr](http://worrisomeme.tumblr.com) where we can chat or you can send me requests/prompts or both! ^_^ Let's be friends<3


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